


You Do or You Don't or You Will

by azephirin



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: College, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, Harvard University - Freeform, Pegging, Queer Character, Queer Het, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You know what I'm talking about.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Do or You Don't or You Will

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Eduardo/OFC; past implied Mark/Eduardo and other pairings
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/3654.html?thread=3896134#t3896134) at [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/tsn_kinkmeme/profile)[**tsn_kinkmeme**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/tsn_kinkmeme/). Thanks to ninhursag for letting me spam her with the early parts.
> 
> To the extent that any of these characters are real people, this story depicts them as they are fictitiously portrayed in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher's ~~RPF 'verse~~ movie _The Social Network_. Title from "[Work It](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Missy_Elliott:Work_It)," by Missy Elliott. Oh, yeah, no shame.

"Is that good?" she whispers. "Do you like that?"

Eduardo closes his eyes and says, "Yeah."

+||+||+

It's not like Eduardo's the first closet case she's ever had—senior year at a university shaped by a few centuries of tradition and expectations, surrounded by people who have plans for themselves that they don't alter no matter how many clues to the contrary smack them across the face, and, yeah, Alex has seen a few, girls who shuddered half-terrified and half-ecstatic underneath her hands, who muffled their moans in her shoulder, who left her bed long before dawn so that they could believably claim to have been at the library or with a guy. Four years, and Alex has done this before, a few times.

Except she's never done it with a man.

He loves it, is the thing—loves being stretched out underneath her, hands above his head. He grips the sheets and cries out, pushing back against her, and Alex kisses the back of his neck where the short soft hair bristles. She puts her hands over his and Eduardo shivers; she bites his shoulder, just hard enough to leave a mark, and he sighs with contentment. And she loves it too, loves having this man who's taller and stronger than she is (Alex isn't small or delicate, she's a rower, but she's not six feet and male) at her mercy, begging for faster, harder, sweat gleaming on his golden skin. And then afterwards, after he's come with tense, shocky gasps, he unfastens the harness carefully like it's something without price, lays it aside and kisses anywhere the straps have bitten into Alex's skin, and he turns her and goes to his knees by the side of the bed and licks her until she's gasping too, breathing out his name in the haze of orgasm.

Afterwards, when she's on the edge of sleep, he reassembles his perfect clothes in their perfect order and leaves.

(Sometimes he fucks her, and it's good—he knows what the hell he's doing and his cock is a nice size—but two times out of three he wants this, asks her to fuck him, although not in those words. They've been doing this for a couple of months now, since they wound up sitting next to each other in Labor Market Analysis [nine to noon on Fridays, about the worst time block ever, but it's at least interesting, and meeting this beautiful but messy boy was certainly a plus], and he still can't say it. _Will you...I want you to...Do you want to..._ but always trailing off, knowing that she'll know what he means.)

+||+||+

It's an iron-gray Saturday afternoon in early November, nothing remarkable. Alex goes to lunch with some friends from Eliot—they're going to a movie in Harvard Square afterward, but she declines, intent on heading to the library to try to knock a dent in her art history reading. She's on her way upstairs when her phone buzzes with a message from Eduardo. _Study?_

She pauses on the stairs to respond. _Sure. Yr room, mine, or lib?_ (Subtextually: Are we maybe fucking, definitely fucking, or actually studying?)

 _Yr room, 30 min?_ is the reply. Definitely fucking, then. Alex thinks about saying no, or diverting them to Widener (not that people don't fuck in Widener, but she doubts Eduardo is going to let her peg him there), because her art history reading is epic and in arrears, but she really, really likes fucking Eduardo.

They actually do study for a couple of hours, and then Alex puts down her textbook and looks at him. He looks back, and it's a familiar moment of unspoken agreement. He's dressed like a normal person today—V-neck sweater with a T-shirt layered under it, jeans—and when she leans forward to slide her hand underneath, her palm on the skin of his side, it's such easy access compared to the usual complexities of jackets and vests and oxford shirts that Alex is, for a moment, deliciously scandalized.

Eduardo pulls her onto his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, and they make out like that for a while. He strips her shirt off, she undoes her bra, and he sucks at her nipples, twists them between his fingers, and her back arches; they get his sweater and shirt off, and she bites across his collarbone—no one will see when he's dressed, but Alex tongues the marks and smiles in self-satisfaction.

"Ow, my knees," she finally has to say, because they're on an old hardwood floor, and Eduardo laughs. They move onto the bed and Eduardo takes the top for a while. She lets her legs fall open so that he can lie between them, and they move together, his cock growing harder through the barriers of various fabrics against her cunt. She presses up against him as they kiss, and more or less at the same time he moves aside while she shifts position to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his fly, and wrap her hand around him; he does the same to her, and Alex murmurs, "Yeah," as his knowing fingertips find her clit. Guys aren't her primary and dick isn't her primary, but she likes how he feels in her hand and how he sounds, the harsh gasps he makes, as she strokes him. He's got a clue how a clit works, and he also has beautiful hands, and Alex lets go of him for a moment and props herself up on her elbows to watch his fingers playing at her. She reaches for his other hand and takes his index and middle fingers into her mouth. "Fuck," he whispers, and his eyes go wide and dark.

They wriggle out of their jeans, and, yeah, this feels good, the bare skin of their chests and arms and legs. They’re hip to hip, Eduardo's thighs between hers, and Alex can feel the slide of her underwear against her cunt. Eduardo must feel it, too, because he moves down, pulls them off, and puts his mouth on her.

She could probably come from less than five minutes of this: the point and flat of his tongue against her clit, three of his fingers buried inside her. But if she's going to fuck him, it's better to be ramped up rather than languorous and lazy. (One of Alex's ex-girlfriends used to like to make her come and then put a dildo on Alex and ride her—that was good, relaxed on her back as Laura rocked back and forth on top of her, her breasts flushed and cunt slick and eager for Alex to touch. Alex wouldn't mind seeing Eduardo like that, straddling her and crying out, her silicone cock in his ass and his real one begging for her to wrap her hand around it, but she knows he'd never go for it.)

Alex gently lifts Eduardo's head. His lips are wet from her, and she runs her thumb across them. His eyes are still dark and aroused, but they don't meet hers as he says, predictably, "Alex, I want you to...will you..."

Normally she'd kiss him and say, "Yeah," or, "Of course I'll fuck you, baby" (which makes him blush and turn his head away, no matter how many times she's actually done so), but today—today she is wet and ready to fuck him and so goddamn tired of being a dirty little secret for a straight man who thinks that having a prostate makes him gay.

"Want me to what, baby?" Alex says.

Eduardo looks at her in surprise. "You...you know."

Alex sits up a little to cup his cheek in her hand. "Not until you tell me, I don't."

"What we always do," he says, with just the edge of frustration in his voice.

"You were already going down on me," she says, and it's true: She fucks him most of the time but not all the time, but she's not sure she can remember an occasion when he didn't eat her out.

"Why are you being like this?" he says, the frustration sharper now. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Because I'm sick of being the fallback for closet cases!" she fires back, finally.

"But I'm not— I don't—" and now he looks genuinely confused. "I mean, there was M— There was one person, and I would have told— If he'd wanted. But except for him I—"

Alex sighs. "I don't mean that you're gay, Eduardo. I mean that I feel like the whore you go to for the thing you can't ask your wife to do."

A series of expressions rolls across his face—surprise, and more bewilderment, and then it seems to settle in. He looks down, away, and turns onto his side. "It's not...Most men don't want. This. It's not—it's not something they do."

"You picked the wrong person if you wanted an expert on what most men want," Alex says baldly, and Eduardo laughs as if despite himself. "But it wasn't only dykes in the store when I bought this," she adds.

"You went into a store and bought that?"

"What did you think, that I broke into one of the engineering labs and made it myself?"

This time when he laughs, it's less reluctant. “I guess I figured you bought it online or something."

"Oh. No. You can't really get an idea of the firmness and texture online. I went to Good Vibrations."

It takes him a second to get it, and she can tell when he does: He laughs a little and mutters, "Good Vibrations. People are crazy." But there's no smile in his voice when he says, "Look, I'm not—I've seen porn, OK? Of—of this. But those aren't—those aren't real people."

“I think they really are," Alex says. "But they wouldn't make the porn if there wasn't an audience for it. I don't have to explain markets, supply, and demand to you, do I?" He snorts and shoves at her hip, and Alex adds, "It just feels good, Eduardo. That's all it means. It doesn't make you gay to like prostate stimulation and it doesn't make you gay to like it when a girl fucks you." _Liking it when Zuckerberg fucked you, that might make you mildly nonhetero_ , she thinks, but she keeps it to herself—it's as obvious as a billboard, but if Eduardo wants to pretend that M— is just some random guy, then Alex doesn't need to go there. "I like it when girls fuck me, and that doesn't make me straight. Hell, I like it when you fuck me, and that doesn't make me straight, either."

He looks up, and he's grinning a little. "You do, huh?"

"I could scream louder in case you’ve been missing it, but I’m pretty sure the banging on the wall last time meant they heard me next door.”

He puts his hand on her belly, and Alex looks down at him. He closes his eyes and lets out a breath. "I want you to. I want you to fuck me."

She shimmies down to kiss him, to stroke his hair and cheekbones. "Good," she tells him, and kisses him again. "That was very good. Now open your eyes and look at me." He does, biting his lip, and she rewards him with a third kiss. "Now go and get what we need."

There's a box under the bed—he knows where it is, by this time. Eduardo takes everything out—harness, dildo, condom, lube—but Alex tells him to put it on the bed. She has some things she wants to do before that.

She fingers him first—she always does, but just as prep, all he'll let her do. They go longer this time, until he's twisting the sheets with white knuckles and pushing up into her touch, down for friction against the mattress. He has gorgeous musculature in his back, elegant and sinewy, and she watches him flex and gasp. Finally he bites out, "Please," and she says, "Put it on me."

This works best with her standing and him sitting or kneeling, and, God, she could look at him like that for hours, on his knees in front of her, all long lashes and lean muscle. His hands are shaking, but he manages to get the ring and straps in place, and then he strokes her clit for a moment. "You're so wet," he says, as if surprised.

"Yeah," she says. "Did you forget the part where I really like doing this to you?"

She makes him face her this time, supporting herself on her hands as she presses slowly inside him. His whole body seems to arch, and she has to lean forward and kiss his mouth as it goes slack with pleasure. He kisses back and they go slow for a while, quiet except for the moans he can't seem to help. "Is that good?" she whispers. "Do you like that?"

He closes his eyes. "Yeah," he says softly. "I like it so much."

"Good," Alex says, and kisses him again. "Good."

She wraps her hand around his cock and he gasps. "Faster," he manages, and she kisses him again and goes harder, faster, until he's crying out with every thrust, one hand still tangled in the sheets and the other on her ass, urging her deeper inside him. He starts to come and she wishes briefly that the cock was real, that she could feel him shuddering and tightening around her, but the sight itself is nice enough: the overwhelmed expression on his face, his cock flushed and hard, the way he jerks and shivers as the orgasm and its aftershocks reverberate through him. He lies there like that for a moment, belly streaked with white, one arm flung over his head, and breathes out, "Oh, fuck."

"I agree," Alex said. She pulls out as gently as she can and throws away the condom, and when she turns back, Eduardo's looking at her, satiated and replete.

"Come here," he says, and disassembles the harness as reverently as usual before laying it on the bed. Then he urges her up to straddle him, and there's no way he could go again after this— _oh_. Now she gets it.

"Are you sure?" she has to ask, because, if they're on the same page, this is new, too.

"I don't think I can move, but I want to make you feel as good as I just did. And anyway," he adds, with a wicked glint to his eyes, "I don't think you'll last very long, am I right?"

"You are going to eat me out all afternoon," Alex tells him, but it's a bluff. He is right: His lips and tongue are just what she needs, and he's spread out beneath her like this, and his mouth is clever and teasing and she comes in practically no time at all, his head in her hands, through the wash and lees of one orgasm and then a second one, until all she can do is slump down by his side.

+||+||+

She doesn't mean to fall asleep, but she does, warm and drowsy with his hand on her hip and her head on his arm.

When she wakes up a couple of hours later, the sun is setting and he is still beside her.


End file.
